


Time Favors Few

by justsayrae



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Established Friendship, Eventual Smut, F/M, NOT a love triangle, Pre-Thor (2011), Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5194094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsayrae/pseuds/justsayrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to lie to one who can see the future, and perhaps that is what first drew Prince Loki to Lady Sigyn, but he is not called the Master of Lies for nothing; Lady Sigyn, for all her power, has a number of blindspots, especially when it comes to her oldest and dearest friend. But even the strongest of loyalties can be tested. Slight AU and completely OC!Sigyn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea floating around in my head for a while now, and I finally decided that I might as well write this down. There will be major spoilers from Thor, Avengers, and Thor: The Dark World, but this will not be strictly canon-compliant, and this will not be a retelling of the movies. Actually, this is going to start before the movies, and is going to be pretty AU-ish as far as the plot goes. I will warn you that I have seen the movies and have heard a little bit about the comics, but I have not read any of the Thor comics. I'm choosing to use Sigyn as the main character because I like the name and because there are bits and pieces of her relationship with Loki from the comics that I want to play with. That said, this is 100% OC!Sigyn, so please do not expect her character to be represented accurately at all.

Time was a fickle mistress.

Few in the Nine Realms would be unfamiliar with such a truth, but none could claim to fully appreciate exactly how fickle a mistress Time truly made – none more so than Sigyn, at least. She understood more of Time's capricious nature than any other ever would, for she had spent centuries courting the flighty Lady, had for a while considered Her a kindred spirit, even.

Sigyn knew Time well, knew that She could heal and nurture just as easily as She could harm and fell. What She helped to build, She could also level, and what She allowed to flourish, She just as readily allowed to wither. Time could be helpful and Time could be devastating, could be drawn out and could also be rushed.

But Time was not constant or unwavering; She could be courted, swayed to one's will, provided one possess the requisite… talent.

Sigyn was certainly not alone in this ability, but as the ages passed, Time took to fewer and fewer. Even among the Vanir, the gift became an exceptionally rare thing, with Sigyn being the first born with Time's favor in millennia.

A great deal had been revealed to her over the years. Sigyn was allowed glances here and there, at first only into the future, but then as she grew closer and closer to Time, she was allowed glimpses into the past, as well. And she had seen things that never should have happened, had been warned of things that never could be allowed to come to fruition. Sigyn had been shown what might have been and what undoubtedly would be, but rarely did she know which it was as she saw it.

The past existed in multiple perspectives, and the future was full of varying possibilities.

No, Time was not constant.

And She could be swayed – would be swayed.

Time was flighty, inconstant, and undependable, but Time was also variable. Rarely was She loyal, Sigyn knew, but just this once, She would have to be. Sigyn would ensure She was, would find a way to convince her old friend, would do whatever needed to be done.

Because this… this could not happen. This could not be what had been meant to happen.

Sigyn wouldn't accept it, wouldn't believe what her senses were all telling her. No, the one she clutched to her chest simply could not be so unnaturally still, could not be colder and paler than usual. The shrill cry that pierced through the palace air could not have been her own, for none of this could have been real.

She must have been imagining the weight that she felt in her arms as she rocked back, head bowed down and lips parted in anguish. She must have been merely seeing a future that was meant to be avoided, as she pressed her cheek to dark, blood-stained hair and wept harder than she had ever wept before – harder than anyone could have ever wept before. She must have been delusional.

She could not be holding Death so close when she had just begun to feel Life brimming with strength within her. It simply was not possible – the Norns could not have been so cruel… so cruel to him that they would grant him his one greatest desire that he had never dared to hope for, only to tear him away just as it was finally within sight but still barely out of reach… so cruel to her that they would make her choose – choose the accident of fate that was everything, that had allowed the life that now filled her to be conceived, that had given her more than she could ever have dreamed of, or choose the one she loved with every fiber of her being, the one she now clutched to her heart in despair.

The movement around her stilled as she let out another pain-filled cry, the sound falling upon deaf ears as Time brought the worlds to a standstill.

A choice, to determine whether the worlds continued forward or were propelled backward.

Time was offering her a choice, and Sigyn knew not what she wanted to ask of her old friend.


	2. one

"Oh, Lady Sigyn, how wonderful it is to see you again!"

With a flourish, the younger woman dropped into a deep curtsy, her head bowed carefully in respect. "It has been too long, My Queen."

But the woman before her only tsked at the gesture, and Sigyn felt hands on her shoulders a moment later as she was pulled up into a tight hug. "My Dear, I have no need of such formalities. You practically grew up within these walls!"

And though she smiled brightly at the reminder, the younger woman was not willing to drop the title of respect. "I could never forget your hospitality, My Queen."

A heartfelt laugh, and the Queen of Asgard finally stepped back, though her hands still remained on Sigyn's shoulders. "It was hardly hospitality; you kept my sons from destroying this very palace in their boredom. Besides, it was always a pleasure to host you and your mother."

"Which reminds me," the younger woman added, "Mother sends her sincerest apologies for not being able to attend tonight's festivities."

"I completely understand," came Frigga's immediate assurance, a wave of a hand signaling the issue's dismissal. "I am just so pleased that you were able to attend."

Again, the younger woman bowed her head respectfully. "Thank you for having me, My Queen." She did not hold the slight bow for long, but when she did look up again, she noted the look of consideration that the queen regarded her with, and immediately Sigyn wondered if she had somehow been too obvious.

"I would apologize for my husband's poor timing, as I know he will be thrilled with your attendance tonight," the wise queen commented, a sharpness in her gaze just as a small smile appeared on her lips, "but then, I imagine you intended it this way."

Her timing – her timing had been too obvious. Sigyn was quick to open her mouth, an apology ready on her tongue. "I did not mean to offend, My—"

"I am not offended," the queen was quick to interrupt, her smile softening a bit as she gave the younger woman's shoulders a squeeze and finally released her. "What my husband has asked of you – what we have asked of you – is not something to be taken lightly. It is true that my husband has spoken a great deal with your father, and that he believes your talents would be of great service to the throne. I do not disagree with him, but I confess my own motivation is far more selfish; I have missed you, Sigyn Freyrsdóttir, and I would have you back if I could. I know your heart; there are few as loyal and dutiful as you, and fewer still who genuinely care for both of my sons as I know you do."

Sigyn opened her mouth to object to the assessment, certain that she was being unnecessarily flattered, but the queen lifted a hand to cut her off.

"I would have you say yes, Sigyn, My Dear, but this is your choice, not mine. I would not have you accept unless you truly were willing." Another small smile, and Frigga extended one arm in gesture to the festivities that continued behind her. "Please, take the time you need to think on your answer, and enjoy the celebrations while you are here."

Returning the smile, Sigyn bowed her head respectfully and took her leave – or entrance, as it was, for when she stepped past the Queen, she found herself in the midst of Asgardian revelry. Loud, boisterous, nearly chaotic – oh, she had missed this, had missed the carefree times she had had within these palace walls, had missed what had felt like a simpler time.

It occurred to her then, as her hazel gaze flittered about the gathered nobles and royalty, that she knew very few – if any – of the faces in attendance well enough to call friends, but Sigyn had never been one to require familiarity in order to enjoy the night, and so she moved forward into the crowd happily, making her way first toward the nearest servant who offered goblets of wine.

Her friends would find her; she did not need to possess the gift of foresight in order to know that truth.

And her intuition was proven correct not too much later, when the Asgardian she had somewhat reluctantly promised the next dance to suddenly stepped away from her offered hand, emerald fabric appearing beneath her fingers as her oldest and greatest friend offered up his arm.

There was a smirk already on his lips when she looked up to his emerald eyes, but he said nothing of how obviously satisfied he was at his little interruption. "My Lady," he offered instead, head dipping slightly in greeting.

A smile of her own on her lips, Sigyn bowed her head in response. "My Prince."

He did not ask as he led her out to the dance floor, but she did not expect him to, and she was more than happy to follow his lead. So happy, in fact, that she completely forgot to offer an apologetic smile to the man she had originally promised the dance to.

One of Asgard's traditional dances was about to begin, by the looks of the other pairs already spread out around the floor, and so Sigyn released her hold on her partner's arm before moving to his other side and positioning herself a few steps away – just far enough so that, as they both extended their arms, her hand covered his.

She stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye – one that did not go unnoticed, if the little flicker of a smirk on his lips meant what she assumed it meant – and could not help but smile softly to herself.

And then the music began, and they both moved forward without a word, gracefully moving through the first turns and pauses. It was as they shifted direction, the palms of their other hands together this time and elbows bent as they circled each other closer, that Sigyn finally broke the silence. "I confess I was beginning to fear you had lost your touch in my absence, My Prince," she told him somewhat playfully, an exaggerated sigh leaving her lips. "I was here for nearly an entire hour before you found me."

The song called for her to spin out, then, and it was another few moments before they were face-to-face once more. Mischief sparkled within his eyes as their palms touched again. "You were here for exactly an hour and a quarter," came his correction. "You forget your dances with Haldor and Imsyr."

A light laugh escaped her as they switched palms and directions, her gaze never once leaving his. "I try to forget," she retorted easily, earning a chuckle in response. A quick spin, and she fixed on an expression of false concern. "Were you watching me this whole time, My Prince?"

A hum of a response, and the dark-haired man only smiled.

The song swept them away again, and it was another few moments before they were once again able to speak. Still, neither said a word, both seeming to enjoy the companionable silence as they danced along to the music, both moving fluidly across the dance floor in a way that displayed their rather thorough training. The prince, of course, was expected to be well-trained in the art of Asgardian dancing, but Sigyn, though absent from the realm for a long time, had not been neglected by the ballroom tutors.

And she decided that it felt good to be able to use her skills again when there were actual witnesses around to observe them – so good, in fact, that she couldn't help but frown as the song slowed to an end, bringing all of the pairs on the floor to a graceful halt. She was loath to remove herself from the dance floor then, but as other pairs around them began to shift, she reluctantly moved to pull her hand from where it rested atop the prince's.

And promptly found her hand captured in a firm grip, her body tugged forward as her partner wound her arm back around his in what appeared to be the beginning stance of yet another traditional dance.

She did not attempt to hide the smile on her lips as she turned her head to consider her old friend. She did not expect the suddenly guileless expression he wore as he looked back down at her.

"It has been too long, Sigyn," he told her then, just as the first few phrases of the next song began.

She did not allow the beginnings of their dance to tear her gaze from his. "Five centuries too long, Loki."

The song did force their gazes to part after that, and they moved with grace across the floor again, Sigyn's heart rate rising at the faster pace of this particular dance. But the song was not without its slower parts, and after a few moments of quick footwork and careful spins, Sigyn found herself once again at Loki's side, her arm wrapped tightly around his as they moved forward together effortlessly.

"You've changed," the prince commented from beside her, expression giving nothing away as he glanced at her.

He was not solely referring to her physical appearance, she knew. They had been young all those centuries ago – young enough that, considering Asgardian and Vanir growth cycles, she undoubtedly had changed quite a bit in that first century she'd been away – but more importantly, they had been relatively untutored in their respective arts. He suspected she'd trained in her absence, suspected that her power had grown over the years.

She assumed the same of him.

Sigyn returned the sideways look, a secretive little smirk already in place. "That tends to happen over time, My Prince."

Another hum of a response, and Loki turned a corner both on the floor and in the conversation. "How fares Vanaheim?"

"Well, I imagine," she answered, only to chortle at his unappreciative glower. "I do not mean to be coy," the Vanir added almost immediately, when she realized exactly how unnecessarily vague she undoubtedly sounded to his ears. "I have not been to Vanaheim in half a century or so; Father has kept me busy in Alfheim."

She spun out as the song called for her to, moving with the music for another few moments before she found herself back at her old friend's side.

"And Asgard?" she inquired then, though she had heard quite enough through her mother and father.

He did not immediately answer, instead bringing her to a halt just a moment before the song truly ended, the arm that had been locked with hers shifting so that he was able to run a thumb over the back of her hand. "Far better, My Lady, now that you are within it."

A laugh – the sound somewhat breathy from the dance – and Sigyn couldn't help but shake her head as she watch her fingers being lifted to his lips. "Silvertongue," she charged, not unkindly, before answering his wolfish grin with a gentle smile of her own.

She'd missed him.

She wouldn't tell him as much, of course, but she had. And, she suspected from the way he was still looking her over, he had missed her, too.

"Come," he said as the music finally died away and signaled the end of the first social portion of the night, "I would not waste this reunion; you will join our table for the feast."

He was not asking, not offering so much as informing, as he finally released his grip on her hand and instead held out his arm for her to take. Sigyn had no interest in denying him, anyways, and so she only smiled as she slipped her hand in his offered arm and allowed him to lead her away from the dance floor.

Being in Asgard again, after all these centuries, felt better than Sigyn would have expected. She had always enjoyed the times she had accompanied her mother to the realm of the Aesir for the summer, appreciating both the change of scenery and the friends she had so easily made. She had not been happy to see an end to her seasonal travels, and even after all the time that had passed, she had been thrilled to have the opportunity to return again.

She had not been necessarily thrilled to hear the reason why she had suddenly been allowed to return for a Solstice Celebration at the Allfather's request, but that was not something she needed to worry about until the end of the night.

It was something she would not worry about until the end of the night.

"A question, My Prince," she requested as the pair weaved their way through the groups of chattering nobility who lingered away from the tables.

Loki's response was merely a hum of interest, as he none too subtly altered his course to avoid what looked to be a tearful blonde woman.

Sigyn noted the avoidance for what it was, but chose not to comment on it for the time being. She had a far more interesting scandal on her mind: "When do you plan to tell me the story behind our dear Lady Sif's new hair color?"

A sideways glance, and the man at her side settled for an innocent pursing of his lips and furrowing of his brow. "I am certain I haven't the slightest idea what you are implying, My Lady."

A laugh, and the Vanir woman shook her head. "But of course. I must have a word with her at some point this evening, then. It seems quite the… compelling story."

"Perhaps." To his credit, Loki's face betrayed not even a flicker of self-satisfaction. "I would personally be much more enthralled with the story behind your most welcome but admittedly sudden appearance this evening."

And to her credit, Sigyn managed to keep from outright grinning in response. "Yes," she drawled, a teasing little smile spreading across her lips, "I imagine you would be."

"Sigyn!"

The woman turned her head at the sound of her name, that teasing little smile of hers immediately widening as she beamed at the approaching prince. "Thor!"

The man on her arm pulled her to a halt, his hand for a moment covering hers. "Later, My Lady," Loki quietly promised, before untangling Sigyn from his arm and ushering her forward toward his brother.

She did not have even a second to glance in the younger prince's direction before the older's arms enveloped her in a tight hug, her feet suddenly off the floor as laughter boomed in her ear.

"Lady Sigyn," the deep voice repeated, "I must have missed your announcement! When did you arrive?"

The best she could offer with his arms wrapped so tightly around her was a strangled noise in response. A moment later, however, when her feet returned to the floor, she offered a more accurate assessment: "Nearly two hours ago, if I'm not mistaken."

His huge hands were on her shoulders, then, as he pushed her back and took a look at her, grin only widening as he shook his head in disbelief. "Why didn't you let us know you would be attending the celebration?"

"I did not—"

"Never mind that!" the prince declared, laughter booming once again as he turned and pulled the Vanir woman under his arm. "Come, we must celebrate your return! Wine!"

A servant appeared at the command, two goblets filled with Summer Wine offered up on a golden platter. The prince had one shoved into Sigyn's hands before she could refuse. And though she did not truly need any more wine – as she had already stolen a few goblets before she had been forced to dance with Haldor and Imsyr – she nevertheless gave a soft laugh and took a deep sip of the wine at the prince's behest.

"It is good, is it not?" came the eager follow up, blonde hair swishing as his large head bobbed happily. "I will get you more presently – but oh! You simply must dance with me! We—"

Sigyn had to stifle her laughter as she tried to still the large man who had begun to drag her toward the empty floor. "Prince Thor!" she shouted over his excited words. "Thor! The musicians have taken their leave already. We are to feast, now, and then I—"

"Ah, yes, the feast!" If possible, the golden-haired prince only looked more excited, quickly turning the two of them right around again and pulling the woman at his side back toward the tables. "You must join us at our table, Sigyn! I will accept nothing less!"

And oh, how she so desperately wanted to know exactly how many goblets of wine had been delivered to the elder Son of Odin! Unable to contain her laughter any longer, the daughter of Freyr managed to hand off her far-from-empty goblet to a passing servant as she allowed herself to be dragged along across the floor.

"How long will you remain in Asgard?" Thor asked as he leaned heavily down on his old friend, not noticing the slight stumble in his step that had her quickly pressing a hand to his chest in an attempt to straighten him. "We have much to catch up on! And, of course, we simply must dance when the music resumes. Would you…"

He continued on with his questions that he did not allow her the time to answer, instead just ranting off a list of things they simply had to do before her return to Vanaheim (or Alfheim, as it were; she did not get the chance to correct his assumption). Sigyn simply nodded along with the suggestions, one arm wrapped steadily around the elder prince's waist as she attempted to steady him along the way to the King and Queen's table. Close, she was so close, and—

She caught Loki's gaze from across a few tables, the distance doing nothing to hide his obvious amusement as he watched the pair, before turning his face into his mother's ear and saying something that had the Queen grinning and looking their way as well.

Sigyn could do nothing more than smile back and continue to nod along to the prince's repeated declarations. That was, until she led him to his seat to the right of the large, open chair that would seat the Allfather, and the elder prince refused to let her slip out of his grip.

"Come, Sigyn! Sit! I will procure more wine, and I can tell you about Mjölnir! Sit, sit!"

Gracefully, she managed to avoid the hand that had attempted to press her shoulder down, spinning instead out of reach and, in a fluid motion, retrieving another goblet of wine from a passing servant. She had the drink in Thor's hand before he could try to pull her down again. She stifled her laugh at his obvious glee, quickly deciding to use his distraction to her advantage. "I must take my seat before your father arrives, but I will save you a dance after the feast."

And, before he could manage an objection, Sigyn slipped away from his side, making her way over to the left of Odin's seat and dropping immediately into a deep bow when Frigga shifted in her seat to send her a warm smile.

"My Queen," she greeted once again, receiving a respectful dip of the head in response.

"Lady Sigyn, it is a pleasure to have you at our table again. Please," she offered, extending an arm behind Loki's back to gesture at the open chair, "my son has saved you a seat."

She required no more convincing to drop down into the waiting chair, a little sigh of relief escaping her lips as she did so. She did her best to ignore the twinkle in her friend's green eyes as he glanced over his goblet at her.

"Yes, My Prince?"

A moment passed before the prince went to lower his drink from his lips, but before he could say a word in reply, two loud raps of metal against marble flooring echoed across the hall, and Odin himself stepped up behind his waiting chair and addressed the hushed assembly.

The ushering in of the solstice – oh, Sigyn had long ago memorized the words of Odin's speech for the Summer Solstice. In her youth, she had sometimes mouthed along to the words, but this time, the Vanir woman merely sat in her seat with a smile on her lips, nodding politely to the speech she was sure everyone in attendance knew well.

But Sigyn didn't hear a word of the speech, because all she could think about as she watched the Allfather talk was the answer that she knew she owed him – the answer that she knew he would not be patient enough to wait long for.

Of course, it occurred to her that she should be grateful there even had been a question, for she knew that the law did not require her consent – her father had reminded her as much before allowing her to leave for the Bifrost site, had warned her that he would not be pleased to hear she had turned down Odin's most gracious offer.

He would forgive her, though; she was under no illusion that he would actually be able to hold any anger toward her for long.

And somehow, that knowledge only made her decision more difficult.

"Bored already?"

She jumped at the silky voice in her ear, earning a deep chuckle from her neighbor as he straightened and turned toward her, laughter in his eyes. One quick glance around the hall told her she had somehow missed the end of the speech and the beginning of the feast, apparently too deep in thought to notice the shift. And Loki, of course, had noticed.

"If you turn to your left, My Lady," he suggested just as silkily, goblet again in hand, "you just might find something slightly more capable of holding your attention."

Curiosity getting the better of her, Sigyn glanced in the indicated direction, her gaze flickering around for only a few seconds before she zeroed in on exactly what she was sure she was meant to see.

Haldor – he was laughing heartily at something, one of his hands clapped on the shoulder of his neighbor as another lifted a drink to his lips. A single sip, and the man was coughing, leaning forward over the table as the goblet crashed to the ground. The scene caused a bit of a commotion, and Arrogance Incarnate over there ended up knocking several things to the ground in his attempt to procure a different drink.

Sigyn decided she did not want to know, instead closing her eyes and focusing on the thrumming she felt within her veins. The wine that mingled with her gift made the image fuzzy, but she saw enough. "The far table on the right, My Prince. Five seconds."

She didn't need to watch. Instead, the Vanir woman took a drink from her own goblet – admittedly taking the briefest of moments to smell the liquid before sipping it – and waited for the servant to trip and spill five goblets of Summer Wine on one of the unsuspecting nobles. They were seated too far away for any shouts to be heard, but Sigyn didn't need a screech to know when the spill occurred – the snort of amusement from her right told her everything she needed to know.

She took her time enjoying her drink before she allowed her gaze to flicker to the side, unsurprised to see her old friend considering her in much the same way. Neither said even a word, simply taking a moment to glance over the other, before continuing on with the meal in companionable silence. Or, as close to silence as was possible in the midst of Asgardian revelry.

The rest of the night moved quicker than Sigyn would have liked, and before she knew it, she had spent a few hours catching up with Sif and the Warriors Three, had been dragged across the dance floor by an incredibly drunken God of Thunder, and had once again found herself sharing the last dance with the Master of Magic, laughing at his side as he told her the tale of what exactly had happened to Lady Sif's once-golden hair.

The end of the song found the pair still standing on the emptying dance floor as the prince considered the Vanir woman once again, the mirth that had been within his green eyes slowly being replaced by something Sigyn could not readily identify. "And what of your story, then?" he asked in obvious reference to his earlier questioning of her sudden appearance in Asgard. "Have you decided what you plan to tell the Allfather?"

Surprise felt foreign in her system, but Sigyn identified the feeling as soon as she felt her body stiffen at his words. Identifying it, however, did nothing to mitigate it. And the prince before her merely stared back at her intently, looking both unperturbed and incredibly interested; the only sign of his amusement at her surprise was a subtle twitching of his lips – that was, until her inability to answer had his lips pulling back into a wide, wicked grin.

"Ordinarily, your attendance at a solstice celebration would have been announced to Thor and myself weeks in advance, yet we were not informed at all," he reminded her, gaze still boring into hers. "My mother, ever since she welcomed you into the palace, has seemed hesitant to intrude upon your space, and my mother is never hesitant. You have avoided my father all evening, and he, in turn, has been keeping an attentive watch on you. He is waiting for an answer to something, Sigyn, and I would have you tell me what it is."

He was eerily perceptive as always, and Sigyn didn't know why she had thought he wouldn't have suspected something from the start. Of course he would have. Just as – of course – he wouldn't have revealed to her his suspicion until the last moment.

"Have you foreseen something?"

At the question, the Vanir woman finally snapped out of her surprise, a slow, coquettish smile spreading over her lips. "And just what, My Prince, are you worried I've foreseen?"

Sigyn had the distinct feeling that had she been anyone else, Loki might very well have snapped at her question. Instead, he just matched her smile and laughed. "I taught you well."

"I certainly hope not," the amused, feminine voice of Queen Frigga interrupted, as she and her husband stepped up into the conversation.

Sigyn shifted, turning so that the group formed a small circle, and so that she could drop into a respectful bow before the king. "Allfather," she greeted as she did so, rising a few seconds later.

"Lady Sigyn," he returned. "I trust you have enjoyed the festivities."

"Of course, Allfather. Thank you for having me."

"It is our pleasure," Odin dismissed, before wasting no time and turning toward his son. "Loki, would you give us some privacy?"

Oh, he would not be pleased with that, Sigyn knew, and so before he could duck away angrily or say something he'd later regret, she quickly jumped back into the conversation. "If I may be so bold, My King," she started humbly, "I would have your sons informed of your request."

Somehow, the very suggestion seemed to bewilder the king. "This is your decision to make, Lady Sigyn; I would not have them influence you."

"And does my decision not affect them?"

Frigga seemed to smile warmly at the question, but Odin's laugh was of a very different nature. "No; if not you, we would try to find someone else."

A witty smile, and Sigyn tilted her head. "I am not so easy to replace."

The laugh that the king offered, then, was full of appreciation. "Very well," he conceded, before lifting his staff and bringing it down in a single rap.

The sound easily caught the attention of the few stragglers who remained within the ballroom – primarily servants, aside from Thor and the small group he had gathered around him. Odin gestured once to his elder son, and the blonde prince joined the group only a moment later, leaving his admirers to watch in confusion and disappointment.

"Father?"

"There is something you and Loki should know," his father began without preamble. And though he spoke to his two sons, his gaze remained fixed on the younger woman before him – something that unsettled the visitor more than it should have. "Your mother and I have asked the Lady Sigyn if she would be willing to be the next Queen of Asgard."

And what bothered Sigyn most about the king's unwavering stare was that it forced her to meet his gaze instead of looking to see the reactions of her friends. She would have loved to have seen either's expression – particularly Loki's, as she was sure that this had not been what he had assumed she'd been asked to decide.

Thor's reaction, she imagined, was probably well summed up by his immediate question: "What?"

Loki's was a tad bit more calculated. "Father, does this mean y—"

"No." The word was said quietly, but it cut off the question without any difficulty. He continued to hold her stare, then, undoubtedly doing it because it disconcerted her. "Neither of you are ready for the throne, and I will not decide which of you to name as my heir for many years, yet. But Sigyn possess great abilities which I suspect will serve the throne well, if she would accept it. I ask this of her now because I cannot expect her to remain unmarried until the time I am ready to name one of you as my heir."

"A… most peculiar arrangement."

"A glorious arrangement!" the less sober of the brothers corrected almost immediately, a palm slapping to Sigyn's shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "You will stay in Asgard, then? In your old suite? Oh, this will be just like our childhood, when—"

"You get ahead of yourself, Brother," came a steely reminder from the woman's other side. "The lady has not given her response."

"Well, Sigyn Freyrsdóttir," Odin's voice echoed. "What will your answer be?"

A breath, and the younger woman finally tore her gaze away from Odin's piercing stare, her attention shifting between the three others that watched with interest. Thor nodded encouragingly, Frigga smiled warmly, and Loki watched carefully. She held his gaze a moment longer than the others', still unsure of how he truly felt on the matter. But he would have objected had he not wanted her to decide for herself, she reasoned.

And, oh, she had missed them all.

A blink, and her gaze was once more locked with the king's. "It would be an honor, Allfather."


	3. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for leaving this story untouched for so long. Perhaps it is knowing Ragnarok is right around the corner, but I find myself suddenly inspired to work on this again. Hopefully I'm not alone in currently craving all things Loki?

When Sigyn had agreed to stay in Asgard – had agreed to Odin’s request that she marry the son he named his heir, that she become the next Queen of Asgard – she had not realized she was also agreeing to allow her sleep to suffer at the hands of bored princes.

She _should_ have realized as much.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when she had jolted to attention long before the sun was set to rise, when pounding on her door had broken into her peaceful slumber. She’d very nearly had a heart attack, until the man on the other side of her door had called out her name and title, had asked if she was awake. At the question, she’d only let out a groan and dropped back onto the bed, a hand lifting to rub at her face.

“A moment, please,” she’d requested, only to earn another round of banging in response.

How the rowdy blonde had even been _conscious_ at such an unholy hour after what she was sure had to have been a late, _wild_ night... Sigyn could not have possibly understood. But she hadn’t bothered to question it – hadn’t really even _wanted_ to know. 

But she _had_ wanted to know what in the Allfather’s name he was doing waking her up so early. 

And _that_ was why Sigyn found herself standing in the palace’s arena not five minutes later, horrifically over-dressed in a long summer gown. Of course, it wasn’t as if what she was wearing mattered to any of the others gathered, but that didn’t stop her from cursing her chosen outfit as she wrapped her hand around Loki’s offered arm and allowed him to lead her to the seats.

“ _This_ is what could not wait until sun-up?”

The younger prince smiled at the whispered question, making a point of looking around conspiratorially before whispering back: “It’s _Thor_.”

The Vanir barked out a laugh at that, conceding the point as she took a seat beside her childhood friend. She kept her hand on his arm, however, leaning toward him as her gaze flickered over their gathered friends. “Is Mjölnir truly as incredible as the tales suggest?”

“Oh no,” her friend told her then. “It is much, _much_ more so.”

And it was. 

Sigyn watched as Thor demonstrated trick after trick, as he showed how easy it was for him to simply hold out his hand and _call_ the magical hammer to him, how he could summon lightning, and how he could practically _fly_.

Oh, it was all far more incredible than she had ever expected it to be, and she happily expressed as much as she watched her friends spar each other, their general style for the most part appearing the same as she remembered from centuries beforehand, but their skill noticeably greater. Or, at least, that was true of the friends she got to see sparring.

“Will you not join in?” she asked as she leaned closer to the man whose arm she still held. Her gaze remained on the two warriors before her, however, for she had a feeling that the current match was drawing to a close; Fandral’s footwork was starting to get ever so slightly sloppy.

“Perhaps another day,” he intoned, before pulling back to send a quizzical look her way, that dark brow of his furrowed and his free hand rising to cover hers. “Oh, but do not allow that to in any way limit you, My Dear. Should you wish to spar today—“

“Yes, I am certain you would be quite eager to observe,” came the Vanir’s sharp interruption as she rolled her eyes at her old friend’s attempted expression of innocence. 

She knew the signs of Loki’s manipulation well, just as she knew the signs of his deflection. He hadn’t wanted to discuss his lack of participation in the day’s training, and Sigyn took careful note of that. Part of it, she was sure, was that he simply wanted the opportunity to observe _her_ before she had the chance to observe _him_ , but the other part… Of that she was decidedly less certain.

Turning her gaze back to the match at hand, Sigyn offered a _hum_ of consideration. “Tell me, My Prince, do you believe I could hold my own against any of our friends here?”

He kept his gaze pointedly forward as well. “I _believe_ , My Lady, that you could do most anything you set your _mind_ to. I _believe_ , My Lady, that you have undergone far more training in the last few centuries than you would have any of us believe. And I _believe,_ My Lady, that it would be _such a treat_ to watch you surprise our friends here with that very training.”

Her head tilted, even as her gaze remained focused on Fandral’s footwork. “Was it the phrasing of my question or the fact that I did not sputter in response to yours?”

Even from her peripheral vision, she could make out the faint smirk on the prince’s lips. “It was the way you _danced_.”

“Ah.” But of course! She should have suspected that from the start, really, because it was only natural for her years of practicing combat moves to show in the way she moved her body across the dance floor. And he’d been watching her every move then, just as he was undoubtedly doing now.

And wasn’t that a curious thought?

Her eyes blinked closed.

_In the next second, Fandral nearly missed his block, and Loki let out a quietly amused ‘ohoo’ in response, sitting up a bit straighter as he watched with renewed interest. She mocked the same interest, copying his pose for a second, before twisting as quickly as she could manage and reaching with her free hand for the dagger she knew he kept tucked within his overcoat._

_Her fingers were only an inch away before he caught her, his tongue making a disappointed clicking noise as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Gently, tauntingly, he rubbed his thumb over the sensitive skin there, before returning her hand to her lap. His grip on her other arm, however — the one which was still wrapped around his own, tightened ever so slightly as he leaned toward her._

_“Too obvious, My Dear,” he admonished, though the hint of a smile on his lips betrayed his amusement. “But do try again later.”_

Not that, then.

The future changed.

_Fandral nearly missed his block, and Loki watched the match with renewed interest. She took a second to glance down at the match, before quickly determining the conversation was far more interesting. “Been paying attention, have you? Are you truly that interested in seeing what I can do?”_

_His gaze flickered over to meet hers, expression a mask of indifference. “You know that I am.”_

_“Well,” she responded with an easy smile, as she slowly untangled her arm from his and slipped her hand down onto his thigh instead, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”_

_Emerald eyes darkened, and Sigyn allowed her hand to inch higher, closer and closer until—_

_“Don’t.” He snapped out the word before she got within four inches of the blade, and this time, when he caught her by the wrist and returned her hand to her lap, his motion was stiff, born of actual anger. “That is beneath you.”_

_“Yes,” she admitted, giving a last searching look into his eyes before smiling at what she found, “it is.”_

Her eyes blinked open. 

Fandral nearly missed his block. Loki straightened to watch the next move, and Sigyn merely _hummed_ again as she mulled over _that_ little revelation.

Finding her old friend would be quicker to the draw than she would be was, admittedly, a small frustration, but it was also exactly as she had expected. He was far too alert, and she knew that her particular combat skills worked better on an unsuspecting or at least properly distracted foe. Loki was neither of those things, and so her first glimpse into the possible future told her absolutely nothing.

The _second_ glimpse, however… Well, that one told her a number of things.

He’d been genuinely enraged by her actions — something Sigyn considered a _wonderful_ revelation, for while she still was still not certain what, exactly, the younger Son of Odin thought of the whole arrangement she had agreed to, she could, at the least, rule out _one_ possibility. And, even better, she could rule out the one possibility she had been most concerned about from the start. And, _better yet_ , she could scratch that possibility off without even needing to tip her hand.

That was, perhaps, the best part of her ability — that she could test out scenarios without ever needing to deal with the _consequences_ of actually testing out scenarios. The trouble was that she could only see a couple of moments into the future, each subsequent action or statement becoming less and less likely until there was nothing left for her to see. It was something she was working on — seeing further with more certainty — but it took time, and it took energy. 

More energy than she could afford to expend, if she wanted her plan for the morning to work out as devised.

Fandral missed the block.

A quiet _“oooh_ ” of sympathy sounded from the man beside her, and she only smiled in agreement. Giving a squeeze to the arm she held, the Vanir leaned closer. “Wish me luck.”

A moment passed as the dark-haired man beside her seemed to mull over the request, before he turned and leveled a steady stare in her direction. “No.” The word was quiet but firm, and Sigyn’s smile only grew, because she recognized the message within his answer; he did not believe she _needed_ the luck.

_Good._

Releasing his arm, she rose with a flourish and offered that smile to the two of the Warriors Three who stood in the center of the small arena. “Beautifully fought!” she offered with an awed shake of her head. “Truly, both of you, your skills have grown a great deal! Fandral, that passata sotto was perfectly done. And Hogan! I have _never_ seen another Vanir so skilled with a mace.”

“You honor us, Sigyn,” the Vanir man responded, his head dipping in respect. 

“I speak nothing more than the truth,” she countered.

“She did say another _Vanir_ , Hogan,” the golden-haired prince stated with a laugh, blue eyes twinkling as he tossed Mjölnir into the air and watched it spin. “If Sigyn meant to flatter you, she would not have specified.” His grin grew as the weapon landed back in his hand. “Of course, then we all would have known she was lying.”

Hogun glowered in response, but Sif snorted and rolled her eyes. “My, my,” she muttered aloud, “you really _are_ full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Not overly so,” the Prince of Asgard responded, cheeky grin still in place as he glanced around the group. “Have I not bested every one of you this morning?”

“Well…” Freyr’s daughter drew out in a high pitched voice, her lips pursing as she tilted her head, “not _every_ one of us.”

“What, you speak of Loki?” the older prince asked, eyes sliding over to his brother.

Fandral chimed in with a laugh of his own. “Loki doesn’t count.” 

Sif offered a nod. “He cheats.”

“Does he?” Sigyn could not help but spare a glance in the direction of the man in question, quickly taking note of the steely gaze he’d locked on his brother, and of the way his jaw was clenched tightly in obvious anger. That answered _that_ question, at least. “Well, regardless,” she redirected, as she turned her attention back toward the other Prince of Asgard, “I was referring to myself. You have not yet bested me, Prince Thor.”

With a deep chuckle, the blonde threw back his head. “Now, _that_ is—“

She stepped down into the arena. “Spar me.” 

_“What?!”_

“Sigyn!”

“Surely you jest!” the Prince responded, amused grin still in place. “You have never so much as held a blade in your hands, My Lady!”

The Vanir woman leveled a cold glare in her friend’s direction. “Your assessment comes five centuries too late,” she informed him, unamused. “I assure you, I have not been sitting idle all these years.”

“Freyr trained you?” 

It understandably came as a surprise to her old friends, as her father had always been quite the traditionalist. But her friends did not know of the many talks he and Odin had had over the centuries. They did not know just how long this… _arrangement_ had been in the works. “Of _course_ he trained me.”

A long moment of silence passed as the God of Thunder considered the Vanir before him, his brow at first intensely furrowed. But after a moment, he let out another deep laugh. “You _do_ jest!” 

Volstagg and Fandral were quick to join in. “You had me going for a moment there, I’ll admit,” the swordsman offered.

“A fine jest,” Hogun acknowledged with another nod.

Even Sif cracked a smile.

Sigyn, however, did not. She simply remained there, standing silently as her friends chuckled and joked amongst themselves. Several moments passed before they finally seemed to realize that she was not smiling along with their comments.

“Come now, Lady Sigyn; we mean no offense!” Thor declared, his lips still pulled back in a wide grin as he reached out and tried to pat her on the shoulder.

Only, he never managed the pat, for before he could reach her, Sigyn had lifted a hand of her own and stiffly waved it to the side, her wrist colliding with his forearm in a harsh block. His blue eyes narrowed, but he made no attempt to try again, instead settling for a tight smile as he lifted both hands before him in a placatory way.

“Sigyn,” he tried again, “it would simply be improper for me to—“

“You spar Lady Sif without a care for propriety.”

The elder prince did not appreciate being interrupted – _neither_ of the princes did, really, and this was the _second_ time in minutes that she had dared to interrupt the eldest Odinson – but yet he still managed a patient sigh. “Lady Sif is a warrior who has trained for centuries to earn her position.”

“I understand this.” Turning her attention away from the prince for a moment and looking to the brown haired woman, Sigyn bowed her head respectfully. “I have heard of your achievements, My Friend; I wish I had been here to congratulate you earlier. Surely you of all people understand my desire for a chance to prove myself?”

“I—“ came the start of a response, but the shield maiden appeared unable to complete the thought, her expression appearing torn. For a moment, it appeared she was trying to come up with a plausible excuse to brush the question away. Her expression neutralized a moment later, however, when she instead settled for a scrutinizing look at the Vanir, gaze trailing head to toe. “How extensively have you been trained? Forgive me for saying this, but you seem more toned for _dancing_ than _fighting_.”

There was nothing to forgive, and so Sigyn merely offered a wide smile. “Extensively enough,” she replied, not bothering to elaborate on the matter further. Her gaze flickered back to the blonde prince, not missing the look of patronizing amusement that graced his features.

“Sigyn, My Friend—“

“Were I to best Lady Sif, would you allow me the honor of sparing with you, Prince Thor?”

Her hazel eyes narrowed at the torn expression on Thor’s face. “Sif will not—“

“You do not speak for me,” the shield maiden interrupted the prince pointedly. There seemed to be some amount of tension between the two at that comment, but Sigyn was not privy to the story behind it. She was, however, privy to the wary look that appeared on the woman’s face when she turned to face her would-be challenger.

“You are unwilling to spar me,” the Vanir deduced aloud, disappointed but not completely surprised by the revelation.

“It is not that I am unwilling to spar you,” Sif carefully contradicted, “but I do not believe this morning to be the right time. You are not even dressed appropriately for this competition. How would you hope to—“

Sigyn immediately opened her mouth to assure her friends that she could be changed in just a few moments’ time, but before she could get a word out, loud objections sounded around the room.

“Gah! Brother!”

“Not you too, Loki!”

The confusion that graced the Vanir woman’s brow lasted only a moment, for she very quickly caught on to what had happened when she glanced down at her attire. Where once a simple pale blue summer gown had flowed loosely over her form, fitted armor now covered her body. The _exact same_ armor that that Sif wore, it appeared, except that the magically conjured armor had clearly been made to fit Sigyn’s dimensions.

Feeling the need to assess the outfit still, she twisted side to side for a few seconds before jumping and bringing her knees up close to her chest mid-air. She offered an appreciative smile as her feet landed again on the ground, her head dipping once in thanks to the younger prince. Thor and the Warriors Three, on the other hand, did not seem so thankful, instead appearing rather put-out by Loki’s helpfulness.

Sif, however, only laughed and nodded her head in concession. “Alright, Lady Sigyn. I have no further objections.”

“Excellent!” Hazel eyes flickered over to the elder prince, then, and a delicate eyebrow arched pointedly. “Well, Thor? What say you?”

A loud, purposefully audible sigh escaped the larger man, but he only threw out his hands in dismissal. “Fine, yes, as you wish. I will spar the winner of this challenge.”

It did not escape Sigyn’s notice that her friend had specified _the winner_ intentionally, clearly not believing that there was any chance Sif might lose this competition. And she supposed that that was a fair belief to hold, for _no_ other woman had ever beaten Sif in combat or made it as a warrior in general, and Sigyn was admittedly no warrior. That he felt Sif would beat her was no surprise and therefore nothing to be upset over, but that he had _so_ little faith in her, even knowing of her gifts…

Oh, but he probably still felt her gifts rather useless, didn’t he? He’d said as much five centuries ago – had _laughed_ when Odin had suggested they might be of use to the throne. Had he gone and laughed after hearing Odin’s announcement the night before?

“Do you require a blade, My Lady?”

Tearing herself from her somewhat bitter thoughts – but being sure to hold onto that anger and find a use for it in the sparring that was about to begin – Sigyn turned her attention to Lord Fandral, who was the only of the men in the room to have not already taken his seat. She glanced down over the foil he offered up, not needing to lift it to know that it would be heavier than she could comfortably move. “I thank you for the offer, My Lord, but I fear I require something a bit… stealthier.” Her gaze flickered back to the younger Son of Odin. “My Prince,” she implored then, “might I trouble you for one of your daggers?”

A mischievous twinkle appeared in the man’s eye as a quick smile spread over his lips. “But of course, My Lady.”

He would not hand the blade to her – she knew him well enough to identify his intention just from the expression he wore – and so without wasting a second, Sigyn allowed her eyes to blink closed and she focused in on the thrum within her veins. To her right, about a foot diagonally out from her shoulder; it would be mid spin, handle in the back. 

She released a soft breath to time herself, and then, without opening her eyes for a second, threw her hand up and out at the precise moment that allowed her fingers to wrap around the hilt of dagger and snatch it from the air. Her gaze blinked open again only when noises of surprise reached her ears, and all but Loki appeared genuinely surprised. 

Sif offered a wide smile as she shooed Fandral from the floor. “Alright then,” she acknowledged with a spin of the blade in her hand. “On your order.”

They circled each other twice before Sigyn finally nodded her head to signal her readiness to begin, and the Asgardian warrior wasted no time in complying, her long blade swinging out to the right before swishing back in towards her opponent. 

The Vanir blocked somewhat sloppily before spinning on her feet, her eyes once again fluttering shut as she harnessed the power within her and noted carefully the movements that flashed behind her eyelids. She kept her head turned down, not wanting her friend to see that her eyes were closed, but unwilling to simply trust her training. She could not hope to win this battle on fighting skills alone.

She ducked, spinning again and moving to the left before just as quickly popping up into a high jump, knees to her chest as a _woosh_ signaled the blade had swept just beneath her. Head turned down, she just as quickly lifted her dagger to block the swing that would fake to the left but come from the right, and then again twisted and moved out of reach from the thrust that would follow. The block was difficult with only a small blade in her hand, and she didn’t much like quite how close of a call she knew it to be.

Sif made an irritated sound from in front of her, but Sigyn refused to so much as smile in response, instead focusing on the battle as she continued to dodge more than block, waiting all the while for the shield maiden to make a mistake that would leave her vulnerable; Sigyn was _not_ a warrior, and she knew better than to hope she could win by matching the warrior before her with thrust for thrust and parry for parry. No, she needed to dodge until there was an opening, until—

_There!_

The Vanir ducked again, this time sliding forward as she slipped beneath the angry swing that went right over her head. She was on her feet again a moment later, eyes wide open as she stepped up from behind Sif as quickly as she could and wrapped her arm quickly over her shoulder, blade to her throat.

The sword in the warrior’s hand fell to the ground in response, both of her hands opening in a universal sign of surrender. And wordlessly, Sigyn pocketed the dagger and stepped away from the other woman, a hand lifting to run through her hair as she took a glance around the room. Thor and the Warriors Three appeared flabbergasted, Sif frustrated but pleasantly surprised, and Loki… oh, he just appeared pleased in general, his eyes glittering from where he lounged in the seats, a single nod of the head all he offered in congratulations.

He cared less for her victory over Sif than he did for the opportunity to witness her gifts, she knew. She would have felt the same. As it was, he seemed the only one interested in how much her power had grown over the years. The others… oh, they did not even seem to consider her foresight at all.

“How did you _do_ that?”

“Splendid performance!” 

“I didn’t doubt you for a second!”

“Enough! It is my turn!” Thor declared then, stepping forward and dropping Mjölnir to the ground with a loud _clang_. He had a sword out in his hand a moment later, a smile on his face and determination in his eyes as he approached, suddenly appearing not only willing to spar, but eager to. Eager to spar, that was, but _not_ eager to try his hardest; he seemed sure he would be victorious without even the aid of his mighty hammer.

A sly smile spread over her lips. Wordlessly, she held out a hand and nodded to Loki, her eyes blinking shut as she waited and then snatched another dagger out of the air. One in each hand, then, she opened her eyes and turned toward her challenger. “Whenever you are ready, My Prince.”

He appeared ready immediately, for without any warning, he charged ahead, sword already swinging down toward her. It took Sigyn a second longer than it should have to realize that she needed to _move_ , and the hesitation resulted in her losing the time she needed to close her eyes and get a feel for what was about to happen. Instead, she was forced to jump back a few feet hastily, undoubtedly looking quite ridiculous in the process. 

But she looked far less ridiculous a moment later, when she finally had her eyes closed and her magic at hand. He came at her again with another wide, proud swing, and she saw the opening immediately. Thor was not a poor fighter – not by a long shot – but he clearly didn’t anticipate having to _actually_ fight… or, more importantly, actually _defend_. He left his left side wide open, and Sigyn did not miss a beat, dodging the swing he made and moving while his arm followed through, her feet quick underfoot as she made it closer to him. He swung again, and she hastily blocked with one blade while she brought the other up, condensing the motion so that the blade stopped just short of his throat. 

He froze.

The rest of their friends did not.

But as the cheering and shouts of surprise sounded, Thor blew out a breath and offered a a wide grin, for once completely ignoring the taunting that was sent his way. “I underestimated you,” he acknowledged.

Sigyn could not help but match the expression. “Yes,” she agreed, retracting the blade and tucking both of the daggers into her new armor, “you did.”

“My apologies for ever having doubted you, Sigyn.” Lifting a hand to clap down on her shoulder, the eldest son of Odin stepped closer, warm expression full of sincerity. “You have clearly trained exceptionally well, and I look forward to seeing what other skills you have acquired these past years.” A flash of his previous cockiness appeared a second later, as he gave her shoulder a squeeze and stepped past her. “Do not expect me to go so easy on you next time.”

At that, Sigyn finally joined her friends in their laughter, the sound slipping out of her as she released the last breath she had been holding.

And, from across the room, Loki offered another congratulatory dip of his head.


End file.
